


Speeding through red lights into paradise

by iwrotethisinsteadofsleeping (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Doctor AU, M/M, also army au, for once hamilton is the 'responsible' one, hamilton: hey babe does my unwashed hair and black circles turn you on?, i blame the ith skype groupchat for this, i wrote this at 3 in the morning pls forgive me, im personally gonna fight lee myself, its pure snark nothing else i apologise, laurens is the asshole that includes apostrophes in texts, the working title for this fic was 'yo im john laurens and the place to be is the hospital'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/iwrotethisinsteadofsleeping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three times John Laurens visited the hospital in forty eight hours</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speeding through red lights into paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank the skype chat of the in the heights network for this idea.   
> Also to note: My very limited knowledge of the army comes from male family members who have had to serve and movies so it's a bit of a mess really.

John Laurens was used to spending unthinkable amounts of time in the hospital. His 'reckless tendencies and desperate deathwish', according to Lafayette, where among the reasons he found himself in the sterile rooms and corridors so often. What Lafayette failed to mention/ notice, John wasn't sure which of the two, was his other reason to visit the hospital so often: a certain Dr. A.Hamilton. Not that John had a crush on his doctor or anything, that would be absurd. If anything did happen between them in a completely hypothetical scenario, it would breach the patient - doctor protocol. Not that John had thought about that.

‘So what’s today’s reason for John Laurens gracing me with his presence?’ the doctor asked, ‘any limbs I need to amputate?’   
John held up his arm, revealing a tattered sleeve, and a collection of cuts; courtesy of some barbed wire. As Hamilton studied the wound, John studied the doctor. He looked as tired as usual, brown hair in a messy ponytail, some strands falling lose at the front, and black circles under his eyes. John wondered if he’d slept at all this week. As he frowned, John noticed that his nose scrunched up too.   
‘So what’s the verdict? Will I live?’  
‘Jury’s out. If you keep visiting so often, then no. And you’ll need stitches.’   
John gasped in mock surprise.

Hamilton set to work, cutting away the fabric, sterilizing the wound ( ‘ouch, that stings!’ ‘I didn’t know babies could live up to 24’), and eventually stitching it. That’s when John stopped looking at his arm. Any sort of needle made him feel queazy. Instead his eyes focused on the first thing they could: Hamilton’s name tag.   
‘What does the A stand for?’ John blurted out.   
‘Hm?’  
‘The A in your name. What’s it mean?’  
‘Alexander.’  
‘So your name is Alexander Hamilton?’  
‘Yeah’  
‘Nice too meet you’  
Alexander laughed, ‘It would be very nice to meet you if I wasn’t convinced you knew my schedule off by heart. You’re here too often, Laurens.’  
‘Yeah, I know.’ John trailed off.

 

Voices echoed out of the room John and Lafayette shared. John noted they weren’t in French, so it couldn’t be Lafayette skyping a relative. This was unusual. In the past four months, since the third friend in their company, Hercules Mulligan, had been declared MIA, their room was always quiet. Too quiet.   
Fragments of speech drifted out into the corridor as John approached his door. the odd word, a familiar laugh, upbeat sentence cadences. He opened the door to find Lafayette spread out on his bunk, shoes and all, and a duffel bag carelessly emptied on the floor. On the other bunk, sat Hercules Mulligan, more healthy than John had ever seen him and most certainly not MIA. John froze, and two seconds later was buried in Hercules’ bear hug.   
‘Where have you been?’ asked Hercules, ‘I’ve missed you’   
‘Where have I been? Where have you been? Last time I saw you was four months ago.’  
‘Special mission from General Washington.’ Hercules replied, ‘Sorry I couldn’t tell you two.’  
‘Only reason I forgive you is because you could crush me right now.’   
‘Yeah, whatever Laurens. Let’s go get a drink.’

John had three beers, way too many shots of vodka, and some weird mixture thing that Hercules had convinced him to drink ( ‘C’mon I’ve been away for months, John!’). The three were now sitting on Hercules’ bunk, watching the latest Star Wars movie, and bursting into fits of giggles every two minutes. Hercules had been trying to imitate BB-8’s chirps and squeaks throughout the movie, and ended up sounding like Mickey Mouse, a voice which he decided to continue to speak in for the rest of the evening. Lafayette made drunk lightsaber noises whenever there was one on screen. John found himself in a moment of pure bliss, snuggled between his best friends, chest hurting from laughter, and watching one of his favorite films.

When Rey and Finn joined Chewy aboard the Millennium Falcon, John Laurens decided he needed to pee. He moved his (old, chunky) laptop onto Hercules’ lap, and untangled himself from the mesh of limbs and blankets.   
‘Hey Laf, move your ass, I need to get up.’  
‘Non, I just got comfortable.’  
‘Maaaan, c’mon!’  
‘Putain, tu peux te lever quand meme’  
‘I understood none of that, but fine whatever.’ John muttered, clambering over Lafayette and making his way towards the ladder of the bunk. 

He stumbled around in the dark, his feet caught on something on the floor, and two seconds later his head started ringing. He could hear someone saying his name, but they sounded distant, as if he was under water. His hand automatically sprang to the point where his head had made contact with the wall, and he fought back the tears that came along with it. Someone switched on the light, and its sudden brightness hurt John’s eyes, forcing them shut. 

A few seconds later they opened to see the face of a very concerned Lafayette. Despite John’s reassurances that he was fine, Lafayette made John sit down. That’s when John pulled his hand away from his head, and found it completely red with blood.   
‘Oh, shit’ 

That’s how John found himself in a hospital waiting room for the second time that day. He pressed down on the patch of gauze that Hercules fished out of their first aid kit, and focused on an interesting looking blood droplet on his sleeve. After a few seconds he decided it looked like a dog or maybe a duck.   
‘Laurens?’  
John looked up to see Alexander, ponytail having forfeited its battle, doctor’s coat creased as if he’d fallen asleep in it.   
‘Are you waiting for someone?’ John shook his head, ‘Come inside, I’m free now, I’ll see to… whatever it is this time.’ 

 

The bright light from the flashlight really hurt John’s eyes, and his head hurt in more than one ways. He just wanted to lie down on the patient's bed and sleep.   
‘Okay, good news: you don’t have a concussion.’ Alexander stated, ‘Do I want to know how this happened?’   
In his defense, he did try to not laugh as John recounted his tale. He couldn’t help himself in the end, laughter lighting up his face in a way that made John laugh too.   
‘It seems you need a doctor on hand at all times.’ He said, clicking a pen. He took John’s hand and quickly scribbled down a number. His hands were warm, John noticed.   
‘Now get out of my office, I want to go home.’  
‘Thanks, Alexander!’  
‘Get out!’

John walked back through the cafeteria, where Hercules was waiting for him, staring at the number scribbled on his hand. He’d even added ‘Alexander Hamilton (smiley face)’, like John would have multiple numbers scribbled on his hand at a given time.   
‘You’re in a very good mood for someone who just hit their head.’ Hercules pointed out. ‘What happened in there?’  
John just grinned and held up his hand.  
‘Alright, Casanova, let’s go home.’

 

A buzzing phone woke John up. 

[8:12] French Baguette:   
Meeting w/ Gwash at 9 (*concerned emoji*)  
[8:13] French Baguette:  
dONT be late

He groggily got out of bed, added Alexander’s number to his phone (Small ham man) and hit the shower.   
He texted Alexander on the way to his meeting, then muted his phone. When he un-muted it he had three messages. 

[9:03] Small ham man:  
It’s way to early to text  
[9:03] Small ham man:  
Consider yourself lucky  
[9:04] Small ham man:   
If i dont respond im sleeping  
[9:45] You:  
It’s 9:30, and you’re a doctor how is that early?

Two seconds later, his phone rang.  
‘Hello?’  
‘I don’t have a shift today’ came the groggy voice from the other side of the line.  
‘Nice! Lafayette, Mulligan are heading out tonight, care to join us?’  
‘Sure, as long as my safety is guaranteed’  
‘You have my word for it’  
‘Laurens, you were in hospital twice yesterday. Your word is not one I trust. But I’ll come anyway. What time?’  
‘Uh, Around seven.’  
‘Great, see you there’ 

The place Lafayette and Hercules had chosen was dark, noisy and very crowded. Somehow their discussion, a shouted one, had taken to politics, where all four agreed. They soon discovered that Alexander was very good at shutting people’s arguments down, since a certain two (Aaron Burr and Charles Lee) had decided to hijack the debate:   
‘Look, Lee, you can say whatever you want, but the facts are there! It doesn’t matter if the right to bare arms is a constitutional amendment, you can shove your right to bare arms up your-’  
‘Of course an immigrant would say this, you don’t understand a primarily american problem-’  
‘That’s what I’m saying you’re the only country that seems to have this problem-’  
‘I wasn’t finished. But if you’re gonna keep interrupting me you can go back to wherever it is you came from.’

‘Lee,’ Laurens interrupted the heated dispute ‘kindly go fuck yourself.’   
He didn’t even notice Lee’s swing at his face. 

So it came to be that John found himself sitting in a hospital room for the third time in forty eight hours. Hamilton was tending to the scrapes on his knuckles.   
‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’ He said, ‘You’ve probably torn the stitches I worked on so painstakingly.’   
‘I don’t get a thank you?’  
‘Thank you so much for defending my honor’ Alexander responded, voice dripping in sarcasm, ‘It was very noble of you. Was the damage done to your face worth it?’  
‘Wait, what’s happened to my face?’  
‘Split lip’  
‘Huh! So Lee can punch after all.’ John mused, ‘Are you gonna kiss it better?’  
‘You’re an ass.’   
Two seconds later, John felt the warmth of Alexander’s mouth on his, and the smile fighting to break out behind it.   
‘Just so you know, this doesn’t violate the patient-doctor agreement, I’m not on my shift.’  
Laurens just laughed, pulled him closer and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Give me a shout on tumblr @courfejac


End file.
